Rise of the Penguin
by Jpbake
Summary: When the Riddler starts killing gangsters Batman and Robin investigate only to find out he is working for the Penguin who is trying to take over Gotham City. last chapter up
1. Chapter 1

**ADVENTURES OF BATMAN AND ROBIN:**

**The Rise Of The Penguin**

**By Russell and Jeffery Baker**

**ONE.**

In the beginning, there was darkness; an endless sea of inky black was all that filled Sandor's world. No sound, no lights. Nothing but total blackness. Slowly, ever so gradually, Sandor began to see colors. But they were blurry, like an out of focus photo. Then there was sound.

"Come on, Mr. Sandor, wake up," said a cheerful voice, "Rise and shine, sleepy head."

Sandor shook his head and blinked several times. His mental fog was all but gone and he opened his eyes. He found himself in a grey room that was totally empty except for a computer desk, a laptop computer, and the chair that he was sitting in. The chair was bolted to the floor in front of the computer, and—to Sandor's horror-he was strapped to the chair.

"Who are you? Where am I?" demanded Sandor, "So help me, you'll pay for this outrage!"

"Oh, I am so scared! I'm practically shivering in my boots," laughed the voice.

Sandor followed the sound of the voice. He saw a speaker hanging from the ceiling.

"Now then, Mr. Sandor," said the Voice, "Down to business. As for who I am, you may call me the Riddler. I'm a man who loves puzzles, and you my friend are in my game room."

"Game room?"

"Yes," said the Riddler, "Like I said, I love puzzles. But I hate doing puzzles all by myself, so occasionally I extend some invitations to people that I want to play my little riddles with."

"Invitation?" demanded Sandor, "The last thing I remember was having a drink with the boys at my club."

"Why yes," said the Riddler, "the drugged drink was your invitation. Now, we have quite an evening ahead of us with more than one puzzle. Here's how we play. My riddle will appear on the computer screen. For every answer you get right, one of your straps loosen. Solve enough riddles and you're free. But, the first time you answer a question wrong, you die. If you refuse to answer in the time allowed, you will die. Let the riddles begin!"

Sandor swallowed. He was strapped tightly around the chair. His chest, arms, legs, and ankles…all totally immobile. Only his hands were free to type the answer to the riddles. The screen suddenly lit up, and the riddles began.

"Riddle me this," read the computer screen, "Who in your pitiful crime family knows you're here? You have thirty seconds for your answer."

Sandor's mind raced. He'd been out drinking with the rest of the boys in Boss Thornes' crime family, when he got a phone call. The noise in the joint made it impossible to hear, so he walked outside to take the call. He remembered stepping outside, and then everything went dark. Did anyone know where he was? No, they couldn't. If the boss knew that he'd been snatched off the streets, his enforcers would already be here dealing with the situation.

"Fifteen seconds and counting," the computer screen told him.

With trembling fingers, Sandor typed, "No one." Then he pressed enter, and waited.

"BINGO!" The word flashed across the screen hundreds of times.

The strap around his left ankle opened. Sandor relaxed. Maybe he had a chance after all!

"Riddle Number two," read the screen, "What proper name that begins with B is another name for traitor?"

Sandor smiled. "Benedict Arnold," he typed.

The computer screen flashed a smiley face. "You're smarter than you look! But then, you'd have to be."

The strap around his right ankle loosened. Good grief, the man was dragging this foolishness out!

"Riddle number three," read the screen, "Have you always been a loyal employee?"

"YES!" typed Sandor angrily.

The screen went dark. After several seconds, a large question mark appeared on the screen. Then, the question mark was replaced by a single word that filled the entire screen.

"WRONG!"

The straps around Sandor's ankles tightened again.

"Wait a minute, Riddler, what's-"

"I'm sorry," read the computer screen, "Your answer was incorrect, Benedict Arnold. And the penalty for answering the Riddler's riddles wrong is death."

Sandor heard a hissing noise. Looking down, he was horrified to see a green gas coming through holes in the walls close to his feet. He tugged and pulled at the straps, but he was held fast.

"Riddler, WAIT!"

"Sorry," said the Riddler's voice, "You didn't guess my riddle. And there's no 'do-overs' with the Riddler's riddles."

The gas level was rising. The room was small and the gas was flowing quickly. Soon the green vapors was up to his chest. Sandor screamed and pounded at the computer keys. The only thing that happened was that the gas level continued rising.

A tall, skinny man watched Sandor's struggles on a television screen. The man was dressed in a green jumpsuit with a large question mark on it. His face was obscured by a purple mask that covered the upper half of his face. He watched Sandor struggle until the entire room was filled with the gas, and then he could struggle no more. The Riddler smiled and flipped open his cell phone.

"Hello?" a voice answered on the other end of the phone.

"It's me, boss," said the Riddler, "It's all done. I'm e-mailing the video to you as we speak. Another one down, and a few more to go."

"Good, good. Expect a bonus for your loyalty, my friend."

"Thanks, Penguin," said the Riddler, "I'll get started on the next one right away."

It had been a highly successful day for Eddie "the Switchblade" Conners. He had collected "protection money" from 10 business owners who knew better than to challenge Switchblade's switchblade. He had shaken down 4 drug pushers. Then, at Rupert Thorne's orders he had made arrangements for a shipment of highly illegal weapons to be brought into Gotham. Now, at 11:00 p.m., he pulled his hat down tightly and whistled merrily as he strolled down the alley close to his apartment.

A noise caught his attention. Switchblade turned around just in time to see a shadow move into the darkness. Then all was still.

"Hello? Anyone there?" called Switchblade.

Nothing. As that old Christmas story said, not a creature was stirring.

Switchblade shrugged and dug his apartment key out of his pocket. The key never made it to the door. Just as he was reaching for the doorknob, a black gloved hand grabbed his shoulder and swung him around. Switchblade found himself face to face with a sight that seemed more phantom than man. He was tall, muscular, and dressed all in gray and black. His black gloves, cape, and cowl with pointed ears hid his features, while his gray body suit was decorated with a large black bat emblem across his chest.

"Hello, Conners," growled the Batman, "You should know better than to be walking alone down Crime Alley at night. You never know what dangerous characters you might run into."

Switchblade swallowed. "Oh, hi, Batman. I was just thinking about you."

Batman smiled. It was far from a pleasant smile. "I'm sure. We can discuss that. We have lots to discuss."

Switchblade swallowed. "Yes. And about that illegal weapons shipment coming in…maybe we can work out a deal."

"Later," ordered the Batman, "First we're going to discuss the Riddler."

Switchblade's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Look, man, we can't talk here. If I get seen talking to you, I'm dead. Literally!"

Batman's wicked smile grew wider. "Anything you say."

Before Switchblade could protest further, Batman reached for his utility belt and pulled out a rather large gun. Switchblade paled and screamed. Since when did Batman use a gun? But instead of shooting him, Batman aimed the gun up at the sky. There was a slight hiss and then a grappling hook shot upwards like a bolt from a crossbow. A thick cable trailed behind the grappling hook. Before Switchblade knew what was happening, Batman shot upwards behind the grappling hook. To Switchblade's horror, Batman was holding onto him with one massive gloved hand. Switchblade was following Batman way up into the sky. And his biggest fear was heights.

Five seconds and five hundred feet later, Switchblade found himself still dangling in the air, held by the Batman, at the top of the apartment complex. His hundred dollar fedora had fallen off his head and was slowly drifting down to the pavement far below. If this nut in a fancy Halloween suit lost his grip, he'd be following his hat all the way down!

"Come on, man, have a heart! I hate heights!"

"That's a shame," said Batman, "Now, about the Riddler. Three men from different crime families have died because they couldn't solve his riddles to escape his death traps. Then the Riddler posts videos of the deaths on the internet. What have you heard?"

"Look, no one knows any more than you do," protested Switchblade, "If anyone has seen this Riddler guy, they're not talking. With those videos he posts on the web, everyone's afraid to talk."

"I bet," said Batman, "What's Rupert Thorne saying?"

"He's as mad as anyone. The last guy the Riddler killed was part of Thorne's gang, same as me. What no one can figure is that everyone the Riddler offs is the low men on the totem pole. He doesn't seem to be after any of the big wigs. And they're all from different gangs. They don't even seem to know each other."

Batman lifted Switchblade higher until he was practically nose to nose with the caped crusader. The expression on Batman's face could have made solid marble crumble to dust. Switchblade risked a glance at the hand Batman was using to hold on to the grappling hook gun. Man, Switchblade hoped Batman had a good grip on that grappling hook!

"Now, from now on," said Batman through clenched teeth, "You're my inside man in Thorne's crime family. I want to know what's being said, and I want to know everything that's discussed about the Riddler."

"You're crazy! All I need is Thorne to find out that I'm Batman's informant! I wonder how many pieces he'll have me cut into. No way, no how."

Batman grinned. "Fine. Then I don't need you."

Switchblade's eyes went wider than he thought was humanly possible as he realized what Batman was about to do. He loosened his grip on Switchblade, and then Switchblade was screaming as he shot straight down. He tried to close his eyes, but they seemed glued open. Fifteen feet, twenty, and then-

Suddenly, his fall came to a screeching halt. Something grabbed his ankle, and Switchblade jerked to a stop. Out of one terror stricken eye, he saw a green gloved hand holding onto him. He just caught a glimpse of a figure in a red and green jumpsuit and a bright yellow cape holding onto a grappling hook gun like Batman's, and Switchblade found himself being lifted straight up into the air again.

"Of course", thought Switchblade, "When Batman finds you, Robin can't be far behind. This is just not my day."

"Hey, Batman," called Robin, "You gotta watch where you throw away your garbage. Gotham has laws against littering."

Once again, Switchblade was being held 500 feet in the air. Only this time he was between not one, but two, masked lunatics. And this time he was hanging upside down, held by his ankle in Robin's grasp. He found himself wondering what the odds were of his living through the day, and decided that the answer was too depressing to figure out.

"Oh, I was just having a talk with our friend," said Batman, "And he was just volunteering to be my confidential informant inside Rupert Thorne's crime family. Weren't you, Switchblade?"

Switchblade nodded.

"Just be sure," said Robin, "that our friend knows that any double-cross or setups will result in all of Gotham's underworld hearing how he is our best friend, and that he helped us put away hundreds of criminals in the past year."

"Hey! I never—" began Switchblade.

"We know that, and you know that," said Batman, "But Rupert Thorne, the Joker, and all of the rest of the underworld doesn't know that. Your first assignment is going to be listening for information about the Riddler. Now about that illegal weapons shipment you started to talk about…"

All in all, thought the Riddler, it had been a good day. Setting back in his easy chair, he reflected on everything that had gone right. The Penguin had been extra generous with his bonus on that last job. All the right people in the underworld were running scared, wondering where the Riddler would strike next. As of yet, no one even knew about the Penguin. And Batman and Robin were so busy with some illegal arms shipment, they didn't even seem to be remotely interested in someone bumping off gangsters.

His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his daydream. He got it on the second ring.

"It's me," said the Riddler, "The Riddler."

"Well I wasn't expecting Superman," snarled the voice on the other end, "I've got your next assignment."

"Good, Penguin, and thanks for the bonus."

"Do your usual good work on this job, and your next payment will make this last one look like chump change."

The Riddler grinned. "Lay it on me, boss."

"I'm e-mailing you the name of your next target."

"What about the method?"

"Your usual Riddler games," said the Penguin, "But how much do you know about biological warfare?"

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

**ADVENTURES OF BATMAN AND ROBIN; RISE OF THE PENGUIN, Pt. 2**

**By Russell and Jeffery Baker**

**Note: I know that Penguin is not a mob leader in the comics or in any of the cartoon series. I just thought I would do my own take on the character like Christopher Nolen has done with his Batman movies. **

Wayne Manor is a large, brownstone mansion located along a long, mountain road on the outskirts of Gotham City. The mansion sits just a few yards from a steep cliff overlooking the bay. Built during colonial days, the Wayne estate had grown to immense proportions as the Wayne family had remained on the cutting edge of advancements in science, the arts, and industry.

A mile below Wayne Manor is a long network of hidden caves. The caves had been discovered during colonial days and had been used extensively by the Underground Railroad to hide runaway slaves. The caves had also been used as a secret military intelligence base during the first and second world wars.

Batman, however, had a new use for the caves. Sitting at the computer console, the frown on his face, which had terrified hundreds of criminals in the last ten years, grew even deeper. Robin wouldn't have thought that possible. Stepping from the elevator that led from Wayne Manor into the Batcave, Dick Grayson thought that Batman looked ready to explode. As Dick, clad in the red and green costume of Robin, donned his black mask, he noted that Batman's frown didn't improve any.

"Bad day at the office, Batman?"

"You might say that."

Robin shook his head. "After putting a stop to a weapons smuggling operation and shutting down those drug labs, I'd have thought you'd be happy."

"I am."

"If that's your happy face, I'd hate to see your angry face."

"Three days, Robin, and in all that time I haven't found a single clue to the Riddler's crimes. There's nothing to connect his victims, except they were all working for crime bosses. There's nothing to even suggest they knew each other."

Robin sat down in a chair beside Batman and scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe his real motive is that he simply wants to kill guys working for crime bosses. Take a guy who's been victimized by criminals and wants to strike back. We've both been there."

Batman nodded. "Except we've kept a moral code to never kill. The Riddler's made a point of it."

Robin shrugged. "We've seen cases where people trying to fight evil become the very evil they're trying to fight. You remember that guy out in New York, the Punisher?"

Batman nodded. "The Punisher, also known as Frank Castle, killed hundreds of criminals before Spiderman captured him. If I remember right, the Punisher was out for revenge after he and his family stumbled onto a gangland hit, and in the gunfight that followed, the Punisher's family was killed."

"Right," said Robin, "We've both suffered loss. But for the grace of God, we could have ended up like the Punisher. Maybe this Riddler guy is the same way. Maybe he lost someone he cared for to criminals, and this is his way of getting revenge. Those online videos of his crimes may be his way of terrifying potential future victims."

"A good theory. Maybe the right one," said the Batman, "But whatever the truth is, we need some evidence to prevent the Riddler's next crime. I don't want to see an internet video of his next victim."

Robin thought for a moment. "Is there anything on those videos we can use, some clue the Riddler accidently left behind?"

"I've examined the videos frame by frame, in extreme close-ups," said Batman, "Whoever the Riddler is, he's good. No background noises, no visual clues to zoom in on. He's planned his crimes well. Too well."

The elevator opened behind them. Alfred stepped off the elevator into the Batcave.

"Begging your pardon, sir," said Alfred, "but I do believe that Commissioner Gordon requests the honor of your presence. I've taken the liberty of rescheduling all of the upcoming activities that Bruce Wayne is scheduled to be in charge of and sent your deepest regrets for any inconvenience the changes cause."

"Good man," said Batman, "Hopefully, whatever the Commissioner wants will be the clue we've been needing."

Moments later, the caped crusaders were strapped into a long, black vehicle that resembled a cross between a race car and a tank. Officially, it was a military vehicle and had originally been designed by Thomas Wayne, Bruce Wayne's father, as part of an army contract. Bruce Wayne "liberated" one of the vehicles and modified the design for his war on crime. Thomas Wayne had named it the Tumbler. Robin took one look at it and nicknamed it the Batmobile.

Once they were buckled in, Batman punched in the computer code that started the engine. With the roar of a jet engine, the Batmobile jerked to life, speeding down a long section of the Batcave. As they approached the mouth of the cave, they saw a magnificent waterfall. Water from the Gotham River flowed over the cliffs near Wayne Manor and gathered in a beautiful pool at the base of the mountain. For Batman, it was a great camouflage to the entrance to the Batcave. With the flick of a switch, the Batmobile was airborne, leaping in the air, through the waterfall, beyond the pool, and safely to the shore on the other side. Without missing a beat, the Batmobile sped up the dirt road leading to downtown Gotham.

"You know, Batman," said Robin, "I've been thinking. I've got this date with a cheerleader tomorrow night, and if you wouldn't mind letting me borrow the Batmobile just this once…Girls love cool cars, and-"

"No."

"The Batcycle? I'll spray paint it another color. She'll never know it belongs to Batman."

"The smoke grenades might give her a clue. But I will loan you the skateboard I had as a teenager."

"Gosh, thanks Batman," said Robin, "You're all heart! Not!"

"You're welcome."

Was it Robin's imagination, or was Batman smiling as he shot down all his plans for impressing the most beautiful cheerleader on the squad? If so, he was going to have to talk to his mentor about his sense of humor!

The bat signal shone brightly against Gotham Tower, the tallest building in Gotham. Mounted on top of police headquarters, the bat signal was a large searchlight with a bat emblem painted in the middle. When Batman had become a recognized addition to Gotham's law enforcement, he had designed it as a way to summon him when his help was needed.

Commissioner James Gordon stood atop police headquarters watching the night sky. When he first came to Gotham, it had been as a regular patrol officer. He had been one of the few honest police officers in a city full of corruption. More than once, he had made enemies in the department by refusing to join others in their cooperation with the mob. There had been a time when he had considered throwing in the towel and transferring to another city. He had a family to consider, and after a time he had received death threats.

And then came the Batman. Just when Gordon had been in the process of requesting a transfer, reports started coming in of a masked lunatic beating up criminals. While investigating the reports, Batman sought him out. In spite of his methods, which were somewhat…different, Gordon somehow trusted the man. In turn, Batman sensed that Gordon was an honest cop surrounded by corruption. In spite of himself, Gordon had formed an unlikely alliance with Batman. The welcome result was a police force that was now clean and honest, and Gordon had been promoted to commissioner.

Two dark shapes caught Gordon's attention. There, coming from the top of Gotham tower, were two shadowy figures swinging down from the top of the tower towards police headquarters. In seconds, the caped figures of Batman and Robin swung down on their grappling hooks towards Gordon.

"Still don't like using the front door," observed Gordon.

"Call us eccentric," chuckled Robin.

"Why should I call you two eccentric? I mean, all you do is dress up for Halloween every night, swing around high rooftops, and like for me to call you with a searchlight instead of a telephone. No, nothing unusual about that."

"You have something for us?" pressed Batman.

"The Riddler's struck again," said Gordon, "This time he hijacked a semi loaded with nerve gas."

"That changes his M.O.," said Batman, "How do we know it's him?"

Gordon handed Batman a computer flash drive, which he put in a pouch in his utility belt.

"He left the security guards trapped in a room with one of his unsolvable riddles," said Gordon, "The voice on the internet video he left matches the known voice of the Riddler."

"What about the security guards?" Asked Robin.

Gordon shook his head. "One of them was ten days away from retirement. The other one was only twenty-three. His wife had their first child two days ago."

Batman hung his head. "We'll get him, Jim."

"Whatever you do, do it fast," said Gordon, "He's got enough nerve gas to kill everyone in this city several times over."

"What about evacuating the city?" asked Robin.

Gordon looked past his friends over the city he loved. "The Riddler already has people terrified. Just imagine the panic that would happen if it got out that he was armed with nerve gas. We'll evacuate if we have to, but only as a last resort."

"It won't come to that," swore Batman, "The Riddler has claimed his last victim, Jim. We'll see to it."

Batman pressed a button on his grappling hook gun. Suddenly, Gordon saw his friend pulled upwards, with Robin close behind on his own grappling hook gun. Watching them fade from sight, Gordon thought about all he had seen them do in the last ten years. They both were great detectives, had scientific equipment that he could only guess at, and enough gadgets to equip a dozen James Bonds. Gordon only hoped that all of that was enough.

It was 10:00 and standing on the side of a street in a dark alley was the Riddler. He was waiting on the Penguin who was supposed to meet him there to discuss there next plan. It was foggy that night and the Riddler could barely see his own hand in front of his face. Finally he saw a pair of headlights peeking out from the fog. The car stopped and a mass of feathers shot out of the car and rushed right at the Riddler. He recognized it as an eagle. It circled around his head and returned to the car. Then a somewhat comical looking man stepped out of the car. He was short, fat, and wore a full tuxedo and top hat. The man even had a monocle. His nose was long and pointed, resembling a bird's beak. He swung an umbrella with his right hand while the eagle rested on his left arm.

"Hello, Penguin," said the Riddler.

"Good evening Riddler." The Penguin

What's the plan this time Penguin?" Riddler asked.

"You're biggest Assignment yet." Penguin said. "You pull this off and you will have your biggest payload yet."

"Lay it own me." Riddler said.

"Your mission is to break into the Gotham Federal Prison, Kidnap some certain inmates in there that use to work for me bring them to the abandoned warehouse were you will go over your usual procedures."

"How many people are we talking here?" Riddler asked.

"20" Penguin said, "They tried to have me assassinated by a rival gang then turned themselves in to the police fearing for their lives. I have a certain due to pay with them."

The Riddler thought about it for a minute. "20's a big number for one person to handle by themself."

"Me and 5 other men will assist you in kidnapping them. We just need you to do your thing and kill them."

"You got yourself a deal Penguin."

"Good this goes down in two hours meet me at the prison at 12:00 midnight sharp." Penguin said and with that they went their separate ways to get ready for the massive break in that was about to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**ADVENTURES OF BATMAN AND ROBIN:**

**RISE OF THE PENGUIN, CHAPTER 3**

**By Russell and Jeffery Baker**

Eddie "The Switchblade" Conners walked nervously down Crime Alley. It was night, and half of the streetlights had long ago been shot out by kids trying to prove what good shots they were. Conners had long ago grown accustomed to the rough life of Crime Alley, but that was before he had been forced to become an informant for the Batman.

Now as he made his way to his apartment, he looked over his shoulder. He didn't know what scared him worse: the thought that Boss Thorne was having him followed, or the thought that Batman was following him. Either way, he didn't see himself coming out of this a winner.

Fifteen more feet and he would be safe in his apartment. He got his key out in anticipation. With trembling fingers, he inserted the key into the lock, opened the door, and stepped into the darkness of his apartment. The apartment was cheap, dingy, and in a sorry neighborhood. But at least he knew Thorne or the Batman wasn't here with him. Nervously, he pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket and held it to his lips. He reached into his pocket for his lighter.

Then a small, pointed object came spinning out of nowhere. It hit his cigarette, knocking it out of his mouth, and kept going until it hit the wall behind him. The object sticking out of the wall was shaped like a bat. His cigarette lay on the floor in two pieces. Switchblade yelled in terror as two tall, dark forms came towards him out of the shadows.

"Smoking's bad for your health," said Batman.

"So is being your informant," countered Switchblade, "If anyone finds out about this arrangement, my cause of death is going to be listed as 'he had too much lead in his diet'!"

"I dunno," said Robin, "Thorne's old fashioned. He's more of the cement shoes kind of guy."

"That is such a comfort!" yelled Switchblade, "Especially with you being seen coming and going from my apartment!"

Robin chuckled. "The people in Crime Alley wouldn't admit they saw anything if King Kong was climbing on top of the building. I remember we once investigated a killing down this way where a guy was shot in front of thirty people…and none of them saw anything."

"The Riddler," pressed Batman, "What have you heard?"

Switchblade pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. With trembling hands, he sat down in his sofa.

"I'm waiting," continued Batman, "But I'm not waiting patiently."

"Thorne thinks the Riddler's working for someone else as a hired gun," began Switchblade.

"Who is he working for?" said Batman, "And why is he killing?"

"I don't know who he is," said Switchblade, "I swear. This is only from what I overheard. There was a big meeting between Thorne and some of the other crime bosses who's had people bumped off by the Riddler."

"Go on," said Batman.

"It happens every now and then," said Switchblade, "Once and a while the different crime families get together under a flag of truce to discuss things that benefits everyone. All the families have had someone killed by the Riddler, and then the video of the murder gets aired on the internet. Funny how no one's been able to trace where the video was sent from."

"I know," admitted Batman, "Believe me, I've tried."

"Anyway," continued Switchblade, "I was brought along just to be one of the guards. Everyone was thinking how this Riddler might try one of his games with all of us there at the meeting…that he might try to get a bunch of us at once. We were all scared of that. They were more scared of the Riddler then they were of you."

"I'll have to work harder to change that," said Batman.

"Hey, no offense," said Switchblade, "But you only arrest people. Riddler kills them."

"He's got you there," said Robin.

"Anyway," continued Switchblade, "Everyone started comparing notes. And two names came up. I don't know anything about them, I swear. I just know the names."

"Fine," said Robin, "Give us the names and we'll take it from there."

"There's the Penguin, whoever he is. Then the other name is from Gotham Penitentiary—Sammy Doyle."

Robin scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Don't know either of them."

"We'll have to change that," said Batman.

The tumbler raced through the streets of Gotham. Originally designed for military operations, it had the armor plating of a tank. It also had a jet engine that gave it a speed that would be the envy of any race car driver. The tumbler also came with an interesting extra: one of the most sophisticated computer systems known to man.

"Sammy Doyle," said Robin, "According to the database, he's also known as 'Sammy the Shark'. He's got a rap sheet as tall as Gotham Towers. His present address is Gotham Penitentiary, where he's doing life plus twenty-five years for an armed robbery, where he killed ten people. He had a chance to plead to lesser charges in exchange for testimony against his employer, Rupert Thorne, but he declined."

"Boss Thorne's idea of punishment is much worse than life in prison," commented Batman, "what about the Penguin?"

"I've checked every known database," said Robin, "All I've got are entries about pe nguins living in the Artic and some interesting characters from the 'Madagascar' cartoon series."

"You found NOTHING about a criminal calling himself the Penguin?"

"Nothing but a zero for this hero, Batman. Hopefully, Sammy the Shark will fill in the gaps."

"Considering he may be on the Penguin's hit list, he'd better. What about the Riddler?"

Robin punched a few buttons and waited.

"Nothing on the Riddler," said Robin finally, "But there's three listings for Riddles. Two of them are for puzzle companies that are no longer in business. But…wait a moment, what's this?"

"What?"

"You know how another name for riddles is the word 'enigma'?"

"I have heard that," said Batman dryly.

"There's a listing for an Future Star Video Productions, owned by a Mr. E. Nigma. Mr. 's full name is Edward Nigma, and-just a minute, I'm doing some background checking on the man. Man, what a long rap sheet the man has. His rap sheet is as long as the Batmobile."

"Sounds promising," said Batman, "And a video production company would be the perfect place to produce those murderous videos of his."

"Edward Nigma," continued Robin, "has records in twelve states. Not bad for a guy only thirty five years old. Apparently, he has a love for science and-you'll love this—he has a mania for riddles. He also is fond of easy money."

"It sounds like we need to have a little talk with our E. Nigma."

"It gets even better," continued Robin, "He started out with a string of minor burgleries as a teenager across several states, starting when he was fourteen, and served his time in juvenile hall. By the time he was caught, he had committed about thirty robberies. He celebrated his twenty-first birthday with an armed bank robbery that he served ten years for. And get this-before each of his crimes, he sent the authorities a riddle to the crime."  
"Why didn't he pop up on our radar before now?"

"He didn't call himself the Riddler back then," answered Robin, "Also, his crimes involved robbery, not murder for hire."

"Where's his video company located?"

"Two blocks east, Batman. We're closing in."

Future Star Video Productions was a three story building located on the east side of Gotham. With the batmobile parked out of sight behind a neighboring building, Batman and Robin focused on getting into Nigma's place of business unseen. First, they used their grappling hook guns to scale to the top of the building straight across from Future Star. Then they fired lines from their grapple guns across to Future Star. They both secured the lines— high tension cable—at their end. Then, positioning their batarangs across the cables, they used the cables as zip lines to make it across to the roof of Future Star. In less than a minute, Batman picked the lock to the door to the roof and they were inside.

They found themselves in what looked like a normal video production studio. There were video cameras all over the place, connected to a computer system. There were backdrops and photographer's umbrellas. Batman and Robin gazed at the layout through their flashlights.

"From the looks of things," said Robin, "the only thing Nigma's guilty of is making bad movies. Not that I expect him to have evidence conveniently left out for us to find."

"I want to check out that computer," said Batman.

Pulling a flash drive from his utility belt, Batman inserted it into the lap top. Soon he had a listing of the video files in the hard drive.

"Hey, Batman, the file names are all names of people."

"Yes, Robin. They're the names of the Riddler's victims."

Batman clicked on the first file. Instantly, they were watching the last five minutes in the life of Calvin Walker, the Riddler's first victim. Grimly, Batman began downloading the files to his flash drive.

"Hey," said Robin, "the last one on that list is the security guards he killed getting that nerve gas."

"Yes. And they'll be the Riddler's last victims."

"But what are those files after the video listings?"

Batman pulled up the next file. It was a newspaper listing from the Gotham Times from seven years before.

"It's an article about a murder," said Robin, "Oswald Cobblepot, of Cobblepot's Umbrellas. Look at his car! It must have a thousand bullet holes in it."

"That's a typical gangland assassination," said Batman, "Whoever Cobblepot was, he must have got on the bad side of the mob. It looks like the Riddler was hired to avenge Cobblepot's murder, although it still doesn't explain the nerve gas."

"Then allow us to fill in the gaps," said a voice.

Batman and Robin turned just as the lights to the room went on. They saw two figures walking towards them. One was a tall, skinny man with sandy brown hair. He wore a purple mask, and a green jumpsuit that was covered in large and small black question marks. His green fedora also had question marks on it. A gun belt and holster was strapped around his waist. The other man was short, overweight, and was dressed in a full tuxedo and monacle. He also wore a top hat. In his right hand, he had an umbrella. An eagle rested on his left arm.

"The Penguin and the Riddler, I presume," said Batman.

"So there is a brain under that cowl after all," said Penguin, "I never would have guessed. It sure took you long enough to track us down."

"I don't get it," said Robin, "This…Penguin…looks like the picture of Oswald Cobblepott. I thought he was dead."

"As Mark Twain once said," quipped the Penguin, "'The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.'"

The Riddler drew his sidearm, a .357 Magnum. "The stories of your deaths, however, wont be rumors. Lets take care of them, Penguin. We do have business elsewhere."

The Penguin raised his umbrella. "True enough, my puzzle loving friend. Remind me to pay you extra for having such a good silent alarm system. Lets get on with it."

Robin snickered. "The gun gets my attention. The umbrella makes me laugh."

Suddenly there was a deafening explosion. Fire erupted from the end of the Penguin's umbrella. Robin saw a hole the size of a baseball appear in the wall behind him.

"Now the umbrella has my attention," said Robin.

"First, hand over those fancy belts of yours," demanded Riddler, "And go easy. I've got the hammer pulled back on my gun. And with a .357 Magnum, you don't have to be a great shot to do a lot of damage."

Reluctantly, Batman and Robin removed their belts and slid them across the floor to the Penguin. The Penguin whistled a bird call, and the eagle on his arm took flight. It picked up the belts in it's feet, and instantly took them to the Penguin. The Riddler and Penguin motioned with their weapons towards an open door. Arms high in the air, Batman and Robin walked into the room.

The room was familiar to the caped crusaders. They had seen it often enough on the videos of the Riddler's murders. It was a concrete room with no furniture except for a computer desk and a couple of chairs. The chairs were bolted to the floor.

"Have a seat, Bathead" growled the Penguin.

Batman sat in the chair in front of the computer while Robin sat in the chair beside him. Riddler pressed a button on the computer. Instantly, thick steel manicals clamped shut around Batman and Robin's legs, chest, and arms. Only their wrists and hands were free to move.

"Gotta hand it to you, Penguin," said the Riddler, "Posting those videos on-line lured these Dynamic Dimwits here, just as you thought."

"You faked your death and murdered all those men just to lure us here to kill us?" asked Batman.

"Don't be any more stupid than usual," snapped Penguin, "I owed those men some payback anyway. Using their deaths to get you out of the way was simply icing on the cake. I only faked my death after I was ambushed."

"Then that report of your death," said Robin, "Those men you killed tried to kill you, but you escaped."

The Penguin laughed. "The light bulb is beginning to go off! Back then I was the crime king of Gotham. No one outside of my little gang ever heard of the Penguin. I was the unseen, unheard of power behind half of all the crimes in Gotham."

"What burst your bubble?" asked Batman.

"A few traitors that thought they could get more money working for some other up and coming crime syndicates," snapped Penguin, "So the little Benedict Arnolds arranged with the other syndicates to ambush me."

"And their deaths were broadcast on the world wide web," concluded Batman.

"Some of them," said Riddler, "We've got a few more to take care of. And with you two out of the way as well as the competition of Gotham's other gangs, this city will be easy pickings."

"A final question," said Batman, "Why did you kill those security guards?"

"They were in the way," answered Penguin, "I needed that nerve gas for a little insurance and witnesses have a way of causing problems."

"'Insurance'?" asked Robin, "What insurance?"

Penguin snickered. "You'll have to wait until the afterlife to find out. Have at it, Riddler."

"Just a moment," said Riddler, leaning over the computer, "Just a few more changes to the program. Ah! I've got it."

"Got what?" asked Robin.

Riddler grinned as he faced Batman and Robin. "Now, Batman, I assume you have used a computer before."

"Once or twice."

"If you've been following my little adventures on the internet," continued Riddler, " you will recall that I usually give my guests in this little room three riddles to solve. A right answer will loosen the straps and free you. But one wrong answer gets you killed. You also have a time limit. If you take too long to answer, or simply refuse to play the game, the gas is programmed to fill this room in exactly six minutes."

The Penguin cheerfully waved his umbrella in the air. "Ta, ta, my little dynamic dimwits. You'll be pleased to know that we have replaced the Riddler's usual cyanide gas. You'll be the first test subjects of our new nerve gas. And, who knows, maybe we'll find something useful in those belts of yours as we take over Gotham."

"If it's any consolation," said the Riddler, "The video of your deaths will be an internet sensation. Have a nice day."

The door slid shut behind the Penguin and the Riddler. Batman and Robin strained against the metal straps. They didn't give an inch. Batman could move his hands across the computer keyboard, but that was it.

"You have three questions to solve," said the computer's mechanical voice, "And you have two minutes to solve each question. Question number one begins now."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Adventures of Batman and Robin: Rise of the Penguin, Chapter 4.**

**By Rev. Russell and Jeffery Baker**

**[Note: The story picks up ten seconds after the events of chapter 3. The Penguin and the Riddler have left Batman and Robin trapped in one of the Riddler's death-traps. They have a limited amount of time to solve a series of riddles to avoid being killed by nerve gas. Correctly solving the riddles will loosen the straps and free them, while a wrong answer will release the nerve gas.]**

Robin strained at the steel straps keeping him bound to the chair. They didn't budge an inch. The control that had activated the straps was clear across the room, and their chairs were bolted to the floor. His mind raced back to past challenges he had faced. Once the Joker had chained him to a wall in a room that was slowly filling with water. The Joker had taken his utility belt, just like the Penguin had. But he hadn't realized that Robin had kept a lock pick in a hidden pocket in his cape. That had worked great then. But here, there was no lock for him to pick. He literally had nothing to work with. He looked up and saw Batman studying the computer console.

"Any luck?" asked Robin.

"Not yet," confessed Batman.

"Here is your first riddle," said the computer's mechanical voice.

The computer continued talking for five seconds. Only the computer was speaking in Latin.

"You have two minutes to solve your riddle, if you can," said the computer.

"Do you any idea what the computer just said?"

"Not a clue," confessed Batman, "But I didn't really expect them to give us anything but a riddle we couldn't solve."

"What do we do?"

"I'm thinking," said Batman.

"You now have one minute and thirty seconds," said the computer.

"Think faster," said Robin.

A dark van made its way down the streets of Gotham. The Riddler whistled a happy tune as he navigated the van through traffic. Beside him, the Penguin began toying with the utility belts he had taken from Batman and Robin. An eagle sat beside Penguin.

"There's a lot of gadgets in these belts, Riddler," said the Penguin, "It'll be fun to use the gadgets of a crime fighter to actually commit crimes with!"

"Hopefully none of the pouches on those belts will cause them to blow up in your face," snickered the Riddler.

The Penguin's hands flew from the belts like they'd been burned. He turned his attention to stroking his pet eagle.

"I'll let some of my workers examine these," said the Penguin, "But what I want to know now is whether there's the slightest chance of Batman and Robin escaping from your death trap?"

"Their chances are slim and none. Slim left last week."

"After all," continued the Penguin, "The Joker, Two-Face, and the Mad Hatter all thought they had the Dynamic Duo right where they wanted them more than once. They always found a way out."

"Our caped crusaders never faced a riddle with no solution," said the Riddler, "We have their famed utility belts and all they have is a very short time limit. You just concentrate on the next phase of your plan, boss. Batman and Robin are as good as dead."

"You now have one minute remaining to solve the first riddle," boasted the computer's voice.

Batman stared at the computer keyboard, thinking furiously. Even if he had his utility belt at his disposal, he wouldn't be able to use any of his crime fighting tools. He couldn't reach beyond the computer keyboard. But how could he solve the riddle when it was in Latin? There were other languages he understood, but Latin wasn't one of them. Smashing the computer might only set off the nerve gas. Unless...

"Yes," said Batman, typing furiously, "There just might be a way."

"I like your idea already," said Robin, "What is it?"

"The Riddler reprogramed the computer specifically for us, but not until _after _we were captured," said Batman, typing faster than he ever had in his life.

"So?"

"He was thoughtful enough to do some of his programming where I could see what he was doing. If I can get into the system's main programming…yes, I'm in!"

Robin stared at the digital display on the computer console. Thirty seconds left to work a miracle.

"I don't mean to rush you, Batman, but time is not our friend."

"I may not understand Latin, but I do understand computer languages. If I can change the central programing, I can get it to release us. There, that should do it!"

A loud buzzer sounded. Robin's heart leaped to his throat. The digital clock counted down to zero.

Then the straps around Batman and Robin loosened as the door to the room slid open.

An 18 wheeler awaited the Riddler and Penguin along a deserted country road. The back to the truck was open and there was a ramp hooked onto the back. The Riddler drove the van right up the ramp.

"Right on schedule," said the Penguin, "You boys deserve a raise."

"Thanks," said the truck driver, "Hey, I don't remember this part of Gotham. What's down this road, anyway?"

"It's the most out of the way spot in Gotham I could find," answered the Riddler, "There's nothing down this road except the house of that playboy billionaire. What's his name again, Penguin?"

"Bruce Wayne. When this is all over, remind me to plan the best way to rob his home. Is the helicopter ready for us?"

"Ready and waiting," said the driver.

"Let's go! I've got a prison to raid," snarled Penguin.

"Car, open!" said Batman.

At the programmed voice command, the doors to the Tumbler slid open. Once inside, Batman sent an urgent call to Commissioner Gorden, alerting him to the Riddler's hideout and the nerve gas. Robin, meanwhile, unearthed their spare uniforms and retrieved their spare utility belts. Then, he switched on the Tumbler's computer system as the Tumbler shot out into the street.

"Hey, Batman. Did you ever install those GPS tracking devices in our utility belts like you talked about?"

"Only seven months ago."

Robin grinned. "Can I take along a camera? I want to photograph the looks on their faces when they see we're still alive. Talk about a true Facebook moment!"

A map of Gotham City appeared on the Tumbler's computer. Two small, red blips lit up the screen. Robin laughed in disbelief.

"Batman, you are not going to believe this!"

"Try me."

"They're on the road leading to Wayne Manor."

For the first time in days, Batman laughed.

"You wouldn't kid a person, would you?"

"If I'm lying, I'm dying. They just left the road and they're heading north."

Coming to an intersection, Batman turned the Tumbler left. If the Penguin we heading north from Wayne Manor, they would connect with them in ten minutes.

Batman thought hard. "They wouldn't be planning a robbery. They're thinking more murders to solidify the Penguin's hold on Gotham's underworld."

Robin looked at the map. "None of his rival gangsters have hideouts or businesses in that direction. Wait a minute! They've gone to the airport."

Batman stiffened. "Contact Commissioner Gordon. Find out if they've found all of the missing nerve gas containers."

The helicopter was waiting, rotors spinning, as the semi pulled into the airport. The Penguin and Riddler leaped from the truck and ran all the way. The Penguin's eagle flew ahead of them into the helicopter. One of the Penguin's men pushed a two-wheeled dolly carrying a large, steel container.

"Hey, boss," said the Riddler, buckling his seat belt, "I thought we were using sleeping gas on this job. What's with the nerve gas?"

The Penguin chuckled. "It's insurance, my riddle loving friend. If anything goes wrong, I'll still have an ace up my sleeve."

The Riddler frowned. "Batman and Robin's dead. The police are helpless against us. What can go wrong?"

The Penguin shrugged. "Who knows? One of the Dynamic Dimwits' friends might come investigating their deaths. We might have to deal with the Green Hornet, or Flash. We may even have to contend with ol' whatshisname; you know, the flying guy with the big S on his chest."

The Riddler nodded. "Point taken."

The helicopter slowly ascended into the sky. As it sped away, the Penguin slapped his forehead. He realized that in his rush to make it to the helicopter, he had left Batman and Robin's utility belts in the van in the back of the semi. The Penguin's men watched the helicopter take off. Then they climbed back into the semi. As they put the truck in gear, a car came into view speeding their way. The car was black and armor plated.

The truck picked up speed and came bearing down on the Tumbler. The truck driver grinned. He had thought the Penguin was going to be the one with bragging rights for killing Batman and Robin. Now that joy was going to belong to him, Al Taylor. The Penguin and Riddler thought they were so cleaver with their death traps. But all it was going to take was a truck to do the job. The great thing was, Batman wasn't even trying to get out of the way. He was on a straight collision course with the semi. But what was that fire shooting out from the Batmobile?

Batman didn't believe in carrying guns. He had made a vow as a child never to use guns. But he did have some non-lethal weapons loaded on the tumbler. There were, of course, spike strips for blowing out tires. Then there was the tear gas cannon that could fire a tear gas canister straight through the window of a moving vehicle. As Robin fired the spike strips and tear gas, Batman swung the tumbler hard to the right. As they figured, it wasn't long before the semi came screeching to a stop. The driver and his passenger came stumbling out of the truck, coughing and gagging. They were too busy coughing to fight as twin batarangs firmly attached to their batropes swung around them and soon rendered them helpless.

"The Penguin!" snarled Batman, "Where did they go?"

"We know our rights," sneered Al Taylor, "We're not talking."

Batman lifted Al up by his collar.

"We're not official policemen," Batman reminded him, "We're not known for remembering the rights of criminals."

The sneer left Al's face. The sneer was replaced by a pale fear.

"Hey," said Robin, "I remember these two. Al Taylor, sure. He's the burglar that's deathly afraid of heights. And his partner, Hank Wilson. He's afraid of everything."

A look of sheer happiness came across Batman's face. To Al and Hank, it was terrible to see.

"I know," said Robin, "We can take these two to the top of Gotham Tower. It's about a hundred stories high. We can tie them both to the flag pole at the very top and leave them dangling over the edge."

"Sounds good, chum," said Batman, "Unless, of course, they have something to say."

"You wouldn't dare!" said Hank.

Batman and Robin looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear. Batman began dragging Al by the collar towards the Tumbler, while Robin dragged Hank.

"Next stop, Gotham Tower," said Batman.

"All right, all right! They're going to Gotham Prison," said Hank.

"They're unleashing nerve gas in the prison?" asked Robin.

"No," said Al, "Sleeping gas. Penguin wants to break a bunch guys that tried to have him killed out of prison, so he can have the Riddler kill them. He's using part of the nerve gas to kill them, and he's keeping the rest as insurance."

"Insurance?" asked Robin.

"In case something goes wrong."

Batman scowled. "If anything goes wrong with his plan, he'll guarantee his escape by threatening to unleash the nerve gas somewhere in the city. Where would he release it if he was going to use it?"

"We don't know," said Al, "I swear! He hasn't told his emergency plan to anyone, even the Riddler!"

Batman returned to the Tumbler and attempted to call Gotham Penitentiary. There was no answer. His next call was to Commissioner Gordon.

The Penguin watched Gotham Penitentiary grow closer and closer. It was a giant, maximum security prison holding only the most dangerous of criminals. Normally, there would be hundreds of inmates in the yard and the guard towers would be filled. Now it was strangely silent.

"If anyone ever told me I would be breaking _into_ prison," said the Riddler, "I'd have said they were nuts!"

"Not to worry," said the Penguin, "We won't be here long, my puzzle loving friend. My men on the inside have taken all the risks so that we won't have to. They've spent weeks disguised as true prison guards. Then, at my signal, they released sleeping gas in all the air vents and took care of the guards in the guard tower."

The Riddler chuckled. "All to break out 20 men in order to kill them. I can see why you needed a large helicopter. Wont they be surprised to wake up and see you standing over them!"

The Penguin laughed. "After this, it will be child's play to take over the rest of Gotham's crime families! Let's get this show on the road!"

"What if someone tries to contact the prison while we're breaking our victims out?" asked the Riddler, "We've killed Batman and Robin, but not every cop in Gotham."

"I've left a little surprise that will keep the police out of our hair," answered the Penguin, "I'd say they have all they can handle right about now."

Al and Hank were led away in handcuffs towards a waiting police van. Commissioner Gordon shook his head and walked towards Batman and Robin.

"One full tank of nerve gas is still missing," said Gordon, "And you got no answer when you called the prison?"

"None," said Batman, "Al said that the Penguin was keeping it as insurance in case something went wrong with his main plan. You better get ready to evacuate Gotham, just in case."

Gordon nodded. "I'll call the Mayor, and…excuse me."

Gordon's cell phone rang. He got it on the second ring, listened, and the color drained from his face.

"There's been a series of explosions in downtown Gotham," said Gordon, "A number of warehouses and factories have gone up in flames. It's taking all of my emergency personnel and officers to contain the fires and search for more explosives."

"We'll take care of the prison," promised Robin.

"As a matter of fact," said Batman, "We're about to give air support."

A low humming sound filled the sky. Gordon looked up in time to see what at first looked like a giant bat descending down upon them. As it grew closer, he could see the markings of the strangest aircraft ever built. It resembled a giant bat, with curved wings that looked exactly like bat wings. Instead of flying in for a landing, it came straight down like a helicopter. A door slid open at the rear, and the dynamic duo raced for it.

"Hey, Batman, what about your car?" asked Gordon.

"There's fire-fighting tools in the back if you remember how to drive it," answered Batman, "And two of our utility belts are in the Penguin's van in back of the semi."

Gordon grinned. He had once driven Batman's car when they were up against Ras Al Ghul, and he had hoped to have another opportunity to drive it. He just wished he knew where Batman got all his cool vehicles; he'd love to get one of his own.

The Bat—as Lucius Fox had dubbed the aircraft he had designed and built—raced towards Gotham Penitentiary. Batman found Alfred behind the controls, humming along with the opera he was listening to.

"Mozart?" asked Batman.

"Of course," said Alfred, "Act One of 'The Marriage of Figaro'."

"Can't we find something a little more modern on the radio?" asked Robin, "Something composed in this century?"

Alfred looked back and frowned as Robin was buckling his seatbelt.

"Besides finding the radio in this aircraft," said Alfred, "I have also discovered the passenger ejection seat. Should I demonstrate?"

"Mozart is fine," said Robin quickly.

A third of downtown Gotham was going up in flames. Gordon pulled the Tumbler close to other emergency vehicles. Sure enough, Batman had emergency firefighting gear along with his criminal investigation tools. Whoever Batman was, he had serious money. The Tumbler could do everything but fly. The firefighters were fighting bravely, but it was a hard battle. Ten businesses had already burned to the ground, and more were catching. Some of the emergency responders were being overcome by the sheer heat of the flames. Grimly, Commissioner Gordon donned the firefighting jacket and was reaching for a respirator when he heard the ringing of a phone. He grabbed the receiver.

"Yes, Batman?"

"How's the battle at your end?"

"Not good," confessed Gordon, "If we want to save downtown Gotham, I'm going to have to send for some helicopters to spray from above. We need help."

"Not to worry," said Batman, "Robin has called the Justice League. Help is coming. We're coming up on the prison, and are about to have a little talk with the Penguin. Later."

Gordon hung up the phone. Picking up the fire extinguisher, he gazed out at the scene before him. Firefighters were working with hoses, but were fighting a losing battle. Emergency responders were helping the wounded. Batman had said that help was coming. He sure hoped that help was close. A large, black blur suddenly descended from out of the sky. Gordon looked up and gasped…

Whistling a happy tune through his gas mask, the Penguin merrily walked down the corridor while swinging his umbrella. Everything had gone like clockwork. His men on the inside had dispensed the sleeping gas through the air vents. Then some sniper rifles had taken care of the guards in the towers. Now his inside men were leading him and the Riddler to the cells containing the men he wanted. They paused outside one cell.

"The only hitch," said the "guard", "Is that they change the locks to the cells once every two months, "They did that last week, and I don't have the new key."

The Riddler's jaw dropped. "You're putting me on."

"No," said the "guard", "It was the Batman's suggestion. Changing the locks lowers the chance of someone on the outside breaking out the prisoners."

The Riddler closed his eyes. "Even after he's dead, Batman manages to cause trouble. It'd be our luck that he comes back to haunt us."

"Not to worry," said the Penguin.

Everyone looked as the Penguin stepped up to the cell door. The prisoner was sleeping on his cot. Holding his umbrella to the lock, the Penguin squeezed the handle of the umbrella. A liquid squirted out, and they all heard an angry sizzle. Smoke rose from the cell door's lock where the liquid had hit it. Penguin gave the cell door a gentle tug. It opened easily.

"Before us, gentlemen, is victim number one. Load him in the chopper. We only have nineteen more to go."

Gordon watched amazed as none other than Batman's plane came out of the sky. It couldn't be—he and Robin were on their way to the prison! But sure enough, the bat-shaped plane descended upon the fire. A white liquid began squirting on the flames as Gordon picked up the Batmobile's phone.

"Batman," said Gordon, "I'm not complaining, but I was expecting Superman or Flash. If you're here, who's taking out the Penguin?"

Batman chuckled. "We're still on our way to the prison. Batgirl was filling in for me at the Justice League, and she couldn't pass up a chance to help out on her home turf."

The fire was assaulted on two fronts. On the ground, firefighters battled the blazes with hoses. Gordon helped one crew of first responders load the injured into ambulances. From above, Batgirl flew, spraying foam over the flames.

Batgirl piloted the controls of the Bat in horror. She had agreed to fill in for Batman at the Justice League while Batman investigated the weird Penguin/Riddler case. He had even let her take the second of three batplanes that Lucius Fox had built. Who would have dreamed that Penguin would have caused this inferno just to have a handy diversion?

The radio crackled. "Batgirl, how are things at your end?"

"We're making headway, Batman," responded Batgirl, "It looks like there's a lot of injured down there, and a number of business are destroyed."

"Bruce Wayne will make a hefty donation to the rebuilding," promised Batman, "From what your father has said, you're handling that aircraft like a pro."

"And to think Dad was scared when I learned how to drive a car!" said Batgirl.

"That's because at first, you were driving about as crazy as Dick Grayson," said Batman.

"Hey!" said Robin's voice over the radio.

"Well, he's right," said Batgirl.

The foam was working. It was one of the leading developments in Lucius Fox's emergency response equipment, able to smother flames quicker than the traditional foam that fire fighters use. She navigated the Bat over the burning shopping centers, spraying foam as she went. The fires dwindled away to nothing. Other businesses were still burning, but not for long. Another few passes, thought Batgirl, and the fires would be out. Then she would help with the wounded. Sadly, it looked like the injured would number in the hundreds. She silently vowed that Penguin, Riddler, and everyone working with them would pay for this.

"Come one, dolts," yelled the Penguin, "We only have two hours before the sleeping gas wears off."

The Penguin, the Riddler, and their team of ten men carried their loads towards the helicopter. It would take another trip that included melting the locks off the doors as well as carrying the intended victims to the helicopter. Penguin was starting to get nervous. Curse Batman for insisting on changing the locks to the cells! He almost wished the caped interloper would back to life just so he could kill him again. Almost.

"You guys load them into the chopper," said Penguin at last, "I better go back and start melting the rest of the locks. We're running out of time."

Riddler nodded and led the men to the helicopter. It was a tough job carrying the unconscious men all the way across the prison yard. Why was it that unconscious or dead people weighed so much? There was a reason it was called "dead weight"! Why in the world couldn't Penguin recruit some weight lifters for his team? Watching the Penguin return back into the prison, Riddler opened the door to the chopper. The men entered the helicopter and dumped the unconscious prisoners onto the floor of the chopper. The radio crackled suddenly. The Riddler climbed into the pilot's chair in time to hear the boss' voice.

"Get back as soon as you can," hissed the Penguin, "I'll have the rest of the cells opened by then."

"Will do," said the Riddler.

The Riddler was a loyal employee. He normally did what he was ordered to do without delay. But just as he was about to turn and talk to the gang, he noticed a dark shape coming out of the sky. He couldn't make out what it was exactly, but it looked like a gigantic bat. As recognized the shape, his jaw dropped.

"No," said Riddler, "They're dead. It just can't be."

As the Bat approached the prison, Alfred and Batman switched places. Alfred strapped himself into a passenger seat while Robin took the co-pilot's seat. A grim smile spread across Batman's features.

"Am I seeing things," asked Robin, "Or are our targets climbing into the helicopter as we speak?"

"Your eyes aren't playing tricks on you," said Batman, "I do believe that we're arriving just in time. I think we're about to get all our friends at once."

"You mean without a long, drawn out battle or broken bones?" asked Alfred, "That would be a refreshing change."

As the door to the helicopter slammed shut, the Bat descended out of the sky. Positioning the aircraft directly above the helicopter, Batman pressed a button on the control panel. Several cables shot down out of the Bat and attached themselves firmly to the helicopter. Then the Bat shot upwards, taking the helicopter with it.

"Master Bruce," said Alfred, "I don't mean to intrude, but we're already at the prison. May I ask where you are taking your friends?"

"I thought the police would appreciate it if we personally delivered the people responsible for destroying down Gotham to them," said Batman.

Robin grinned. "I'm sure Gotham's finest will make them feel right at home."

The Riddler looked out of the window at the gigantic bat shape above them. It was impossible! Batman and Robin were dead! He hadn't even programmed a solution to the puzzle into the computer! There were so many cables attached to the helicopter that there was no way they could free themselves, even if they turned on the rotors. They were caught good.

"This is not fair!" swore Riddler.

"Hey Riddler," said one of the Penguin's men, "You said you killed Batman and Robin. What gives?"

Riddler turned on the man. "You know, birds teach their young to fly by kicking them out of the nest. They have to fly or fall. Do you want to find yourself being kicked out of this nest to see if you can flap your arms fast enough to fly?"

The man shook his head.

"Then shut up!" screamed the Riddler.

Penguin watched the capture from inside the prison. He had gotten inside just as the Bat had swooped down from the sky. Obviously, the caped nincompoops had wormed their way out of Riddler's trap. He should have expected it. The Joker had warned him there would be days like this.

The good news was that they probably thought that he had gotten into the helicopter along with the Riddler. They thought that all the eggs were in one basket.

"Oh well," thought Penguin, "I can't win them all. That's what a backup plan—and a good, old fashioned tank of nerve gas- is for."

Walking into the prison yard, Penguin swung his umbrella. He had loved umbrellas since he was a child. As a teen, he had begun experimenting with what he gadgets he could load into them. His first kill had involved firing a poison dart into the neck of his victim by shooting it out of the umbrella. He had been nineteen at the time and working his way up the ladder of the mob. Soon, he began loading other things into the barrel of the umbrella.

Whistling, he opened the umbrella and pressed a button. He watched, grinning, as the helicopter blades instantly shredded the material of the umbrella as they spun to life. The blades spun faster. In seconds, the makeshift helicopter lifted Penguin up into the air, carrying him across the prison yard and over the walls.

Marsha Hill left her office at the DA's office and strolled to the parking lot. It had been with sweet relief that she had heard of the capture of the Riddler on the radio two days ago, although his boss, the Penguin, was still at large. Batman, Robin, and Batgirl were interrogating the Riddler, but he was all lawyered up. The Riddler was hoping that all charges would be dropped against him in exchange for information on the whereabouts of the Penguin. With all the murders he had committed, there was no chance of that happening. But with the Penguin running loose with a tank of nerve gas, no one was in a good mood.

There were, however, two bits of good news besides the capture of the Riddler and the Penguin's men. Everybody at the prison, including the prisoners the Penguin had tried to kidnap, were safe. The gas they used was simply knock out gas, although the Penguin had some nasty plans for the prisoners he had tried to kidnap. Then, of course, Gotham was getting a lot of government funds for the rebuilding of downtown Gotham. Although there had been many injuries in the explosions and fires, there had—miraculously—been no fatalities.

This case, no doubt, was going to be the most famous in her career. Marsha had worked hard to prove that she had become Gotham's DA because she had earned it, not because she was the daughter of Mayor Hamilton Hill. That was taking a lot of proving. Never mind that she was assistant DA before Hamilton Hill ever thought of running for mayor. Never mind that she was next in line after DA Harvey Dent got scarred with acid and became Two-Face. As long as her Dad was mayor, she was going to have a lot to prove.

As Marsha reached her car, she fished into her purse for the keys.

"Mrs. Hill?" asked a voice behind her.

Marsha whirled around. She saw a short, overweight man in a tux, top hat, and monocle. He was twirling an umbrella. Her face paled as she remembered Batman's description of the Penguin.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Nothing much," said the Penguin, "Just you."

Marsha turned to run, but it was already too late. She felt a sting at the base of her neck. She grabbed at her neck, and her hand found a dart. He had fired a dart from that blasted umbrella of his! Instantly, she felt woozy. Her legs felt like rubber. Slowly, she sank to the ground. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth.

"No," she thought, terrified, "I've been poisoned!"

Her vision began to blur. From somewhere that sounded far away, she heard the Penguin's voice.

"Don't worry," he said, "It's not fatal. Just something to help you sleep while I take you somewhere safe and out of the way. You're just what I need to make up for my recent losses."

Her world went dark.

**To be continued in the conclusion of "The Rise of the Penguin".**


	5. Chapter 5

**Adventures of Batman and Robin: Rise of the Penguin, chapter 5**

**THE CONCLUSION**

**By Rev. Russell and Jeffery Baker**

**[Note: **Batman and Robin have captured the Riddler and several of the Penguin's men while they attempted to kidnap several of the Penguin's enemies from out of Gotham prison. Batgirl helped Gotham's first responders to put out fires caused by explosives set by the Penguin as a diversion. However, Penguin has escaped and kidnapped the daughter of Mayor Hamilton Hill. He is also armed with a tank of stolen nerve gas.**]**

It had been a truly rotten few days for Edward Nigma, alias the Riddler. First, Batman and Robin survived his death trap. Then the dynamic dimwits had managed to track him down in their fancy airplanes while the Penguin made good his escape. But his week only got worse from there. It was never good when costumed vigilantes were friends with the police commissioner. They got away with so much.

Edward Nigma had been bound hand and foot. Batman had attached a cable to his ankles and hung him out of a window at the very top of Gotham Tower, 100 stories in the air. He was trying hard not to look scared, but was failing miserably. Batman and Robin were beside him, grim faced, holding onto their grappling hook guns.

"All right," snarled Batman, "Let's try it again. Where would your boss take the mayor's daughter? Where would he stash the nerve gas?"

"Better talk," said Robin, "Batman is not known for his patience."

"I want a lawyer!"

"We don't have a phone in our utility belts," said Robin, "So we'll have to go find one. It may take us an hour or two…or three…but you should be all right. Maybe the cable will hold that long…"

Batman and Robin started to climb into the window.

"Wait! You can't leave me like this," pleaded the Riddler.

"Make up your mind," growled Batman.

"You have to believe me," begged the Riddler, "the Penguin didn't tell me everything. There was a bunch he kept to himself. I was just the hired gun. All I knew was that he had a backup plan that he told no one about. He kept that nerve gas handy to make sure that no costumed crime fighter—even Superman-would mess with him."

"Biological terrorism," muttered Batman, "A threat of mass murder if anyone comes near him."

"Where does the mayor's daughter fit in?" asked Robin.

"I don't know," said Riddler, "I didn't even know he was going to snatch her. I swear that's all I know!"

Batman and Robin looked at each other.

"Do you believe him, chum?" asked Batman.

"Now why wouldn't I trust a man that tried to kill us with nerve gas? Let's go!"

Pressing a button and their grappling hook guns, Batman and Robin shot upwards to the roof of the tower. Riddler screamed for help as Batman and Robin climbed onto the roof. They ignored Riddler's screams as they attached their grappling guns to their utility belts. Riddler was still screaming five minutes later when Batman and Robin reached the room where they had trapped the Riddler and finally pulled him back inside. After taking the cable off of his ankles, Batman lifted the still bound Riddler up in the air. Riddler found himself inches from Batman's infuriated face.

"If I find out that you held out on me," snarled Batman, "If you left out even one detail, you'll wish I had just left you hanging outside that window."

The Bat shot through the skies of Gotham with the speed of a rocket. Batgirl kept the plane's scanners zeroed in on some of the most logical targets for a biological weapon. The subways, malls, bus terminals, every public place that could possibly hold the nerve gas. If Batman could find the mayor's daughter while she found the nerve gas, the city's problems would be over.

There was just a huge problem with that two letter word "IF"…

"Come in Batgirl," said Alfred's voice on the radio.

"Batgirl here."

"The Riddler knew nothing that could help us, and Batman wants to know how you're faring."

"About the same as he is," sighed Batgirl, "We need to find the mayor's daughter and the nerve gas at the same time to pull this off. I sure wish I knew how to do it. I'm going to make another pass through the city. Catch you later."

The cell door slammed shut behind Edward Nigma. Outside his cell door, guards stood with their hands on their holsters. The Penguin had promised to spring him if he had gotten caught. Well, he had gotten caught, and had managed to hold on out Batman. He had held out while hanging upside down a hundred stories in the air, for crying out loud! But how could the Penguin spring him when the cops were just waiting on him to try something? Nigma sat down on his cot, fuming.

That was when he noticed the pigeon perched outside his window. Nigma rushed to the window and gripped the cell bars. There was a note attached to one of the pigeons' legs. He quickly got the note and unfolded it.

"Everyone's about to take a nap," read the note, "Including you. Don't worry. You'll wake up a free man."

Nigma grinned. Good old Penguin! He knew Penguin wouldn't let him down. He glanced towards the cell door, and noticed a green vapor rising from the floor. The guards noticed it to. They fumbling with their radios, but never made it. They slumped to the floor. Nigma tried to laugh. But it was too much effort. The world began spinning. He was dimly aware of uniformed men wearing gas masks walking towards his cell. Then he knew nothing.

The radio crackled inside the Tumbler. Robin picked it up just as Gordon began talking.

"You were right," said Gordon, "The Penguin is springing the Riddler from county jail. Would you believe they're trying the same sleeping gas trick that he used at Gotham Prison?"

"Got that," said Robin, "Guess that old dog is running out of tricks. We're ready at our end. Batman and Robin out."

"We better call Batgirl," said Batman, "She'll be able to track the Riddler without being spotted."

Robin made the call to Batgirl, and then turned back to Batman.

"Hey, Batman," said Robin, "When did you have a chance to put that tracking device on the Riddler's clothes?"

"When we pulled him back inside Gotham Tower," explained Batman, "When I grabbed him by the collar, I had a mini tracking device in my hand and pinned it to the back of his shirt. He was too scared to notice."

Robin grinned. "Pretty slick. But how did you know the Penguin would try to spring him?"

"It was a long shot, but I figured that Penguin would try to get his chief assassin to safety in case things went sour and the nerve gas goes off."

"Then all we would have to do is trail him to their hideout."

"Batgirl here," crackled the Tumbler's radio, "They're heading north."

"Thanks," said Robin, "Got it."

The Tumbler roared to life. Batman pondered the situation as he navigated the Tumbler through traffic with the speed of a race car. If the nerve gas was released, it would kill everyone in the city. The Penguin certainly wouldn't risk his own skin by staying in the city past the deadline. Where would he go? And, more important, where was the nerve gas and the mayor's daughter?

Suddenly they got a phone call from Commissioner Gordon.

"Batman, a mysterious package from the Riddler was just delivered to the  
Mayor's front desk. We believe it has something to do with the Penguin's plan with his daughter."

"On our way." Batman said. They turned the Tumbler around and headed to the Mayor's office.

Within five minutes, the Tumbler pulled into the parking lot of police headquarters. They found Gordon at his desk with an open package in front of him.

"Once we discovered the package wasn't a bomb, we figured it was a message from the Penguin and the Riddler," explained Gordon, "And our riddle loving friend just couldn't resist making a puzzle out of it."

Inside the package was a jigsaw puzzle in little pieces; five hundred pieces. A piece of paper lay beside the jigsaw puzzle. Batman picked up the paper up and studied it.

"Here's a clue to my demands," read the note, "You have one hour to solve the puzzle, and then I will call to check on your progress. Have a nice day. Yours, Penguin."

"I hope Batgirl's having an easier time than us," said Robin.

"Let's get started," said Batman.

"I always hated puzzles," said Gordon.

"I guess that's why you became a policeman," said Robin.

Within 45 minutes they got the puzzle put together. "Now comes the hard part" Robin said. Finding out what the puzzle means.

"How much time we got left Batman?" Gordon said

"About 15 minutes." Batman said

"Blast that doesn't leave much time." Gordon said.

They took a good look at the completed puzzle. It was a picture of Gotham City. There was a Penguin placed in the middle of the City. On one tower there was the Bat signal but the bat signal was busted. There was a clock tower; the time on the clock tower was 12:00

"What do you think it means Batman?" Gordon said.

"Well, I'm not 100 percent sure." Batman said. "But I think the Penguin in the middle of the city means that he wants to roam freely in the city. The Broken Bat signal must mean that he doesn't want any interference from me. I'm still trying to figure out what the time on the clock means."

"Maybe the time on the clock shows how long we got to meet his demands." Robin said.

"You may be right on that Robin." Batman said

Suddenly though the phone rang. Gordon picked it up and quickly put it on speaker. It was the Penguin.

"Good evening everyone." The Penguin said. " I'm sure by now you have solved mine and Riddler's little puzzle. But just in case you haven't let me give you a run through."

"What do you want Penguin?" Gordon said.

"Oh, nothing much" He said. "I just want complete control of the city; I want to run my mob without interference from Batman or the police. And I want 1 billion dollars from the state treasury so me and my boys can by supplies for our mob. You got till 12:00 tomorrow to meet me at the clock tower to sign the city over to me. No Batman or the Mayors little girl dies and the whole city of Gotham will go down with the nerve gas." Then the Penguin hung up.

"This isn't good." Robin said.

"We can't hand the city over to the Penguin Batman." Gordon said.

"That's the last thing we're going to do." Batman said.

"What are we going to do Batman?" Gordon said

"For now just contact the Mayor, Tell him to play along with the Penguins game until I come up with a plan. Meet the penguin at the clock tower tomorrow. We'll meet up with you then."

"How?" Gordon asked "The Penguin said no Batman."

"He didn't say anything about no Robin." Batman said.

Gordon just looked at them confused as Batman and Robin left the Mayor's office.

"What did you mean about that Batman?" Robin asked.

"I'll tell you own the way back to the Bat cave." Batman said.

The Bat soared above the clouds over Gotham City. High, out of sight of any onlookers below, Batgirl kept her eyes on the computerized map of the city. Nigma and his goons were still headed north, oblivious to the tracking device Batman had put on him.

Wait! The truck veered left suddenly. Batgirl studied the map carefully. The Riddler's truck pulled into Gotham's sewage treatment plant. Of course! This would be the perfect place to store the nerve gas. If the Penguin's plans went south, the sewer lines of Gotham could easily send the nerve gas throughout the entire city. A few years back, the Scarecrow tried to use Gotham's water supply to spread his fear gas throughout the city when he worked for Ras Al Ghul. That had been Batman's first big case. Penguin must have decided to modify the Scarecrow's plan for his own purposes.

Reaching for the radio, Batgirl said, "Batman, I think I've found pay dirt."

It felt good to be back in his Riddler costume again. No more being hung out of windows or rotting in a jail cell. Riddler ran his hands tenderly over the canister of nerve gas that was wired to Gotham's central sewage line. It was almost amusing. One little, easy to carry, tank of gas was enough to hold an entire city hostage, and to prevent any meddling from costumed interlopers.

"So, what now?" asked Dobbs, a 300 pound blob of fat that didn't have a brain in his head, but who was loyal and good with a gun.

"That depends on how much the mayor loves his daughter," answered Riddler, "As well as the city. As long as the mayor plays ball, everyone gets to stay nice and alive."

Toothpick, an unbelievably skinny knife-throwing expert, sat in a chair halfway dozing. He was called Toothpick because of his weight, and he always had a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

"Suppose Batman tries to pull a fast one?" asked Toothpick.

"Then we instantly don our gas masks and I hit this," said Riddler, holding a remote control in his hand, "One hit on this button, and Gotham is history."

Out of the corner of his eye, Riddler saw a small, twirling object flying. Then, something sharp hit his hand. He cried out in pain and dropped the remote control. A black gloved hand caught the remote. Riddler staggered, his left hand clutching at the batarang sticking out of his right hand.

Dobbs reached for his gun. Then his feet were jerked out from under him. He found himself being hauled upwards, a grappling hook attached to his legs. He screamed as he flew up to the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Toothpick reached for his knife. But it flew out of his hands. Like Riddler, a batarang had imbedded itself in his throwing hand. Toothpick collapsed in agony.

Moments later, The three criminals were tied up and dangling upside down from the ceiling. They watched helplessly as Batman, Batgirl, and Robin disconnected the nerve gas from the sewer line.

"Hey, boss," called Dobbs, "What are they going to do with us?"

"Shut up!" yelled Riddler.

"What ARE we going to do with them?" called Batgirl.

"Oh, I don't know," said Batman, "Any suggestions?"

"I like the time," began Robin, "We wanted the Joker to tell us how to dismantle one of his bombs. He swore and swore he wouldn't talk, remember? So we tied him to the wings of the Batplane and flew him over the city at top speed. Funniest thing I ever saw!"

Batman nodded. "That video is still a big hit on Youtube. Anything else?"

Batgirl considered. "We could strap pieces of raw meat to them and drop them tied up into a dog pound. Unless of course, they were to tell us where the Penguin and the mayor's daughter are…"

"Never!" yelled Riddler.

Batman shrugged. Oh, well they tried. He pulled a gas mask out from his utility belt. Robin and Batgirl likewise pulled gas masks out of their own utility belts.

"Uhhh, what are they doing?" asked Dobbs.

"Don't worry," said Riddler, "They're just trying to scare us."

"They're doing a pretty good job," muttered Toothpick.

"You know," said Robin, "Ever since you tried to kill us with gas, I've wanted to return the favor."

"They're bluffing," insisted Riddler, "Batman doesn't kill!"

Batman calmly pulled a gas canister out of his utility belt. He unscrewed the cap. Instantly, gas fumes began pouring out of the canister.

"Riddler, it don't look like they're bluffing!" yelled Dobbs.

The fumes began rising. Soon, Batman decided, they would be in just the right frame of mind. It had taken two weeks to discover the secret of the Scarecrow's fear gas and to modify it. Batman had weakened it to the extent that there were no permanent, or lethal, side effects. But it still could give people a temporary phobia about whatever the person making the gas wanted. In this case, Batman had chosen to make the gas give an intense fear of bats.

In seconds, the Riddler and his goons were breaking out in a cold sweat. Their eyes were wide with horror. To them, Batman had changed into a gigantic, six foot tall bat complete with wings and fangs. Batgirl and Robin didn't look much better to them. Sure enough, they soon began screaming for help and pleading for mercy.

"Tell us where they are, and we'll help you," shouted Batman.

"We will?" whispered Robin.

Batman glared at him. Even under the gas mask, Robin didn't like his expression.

"Gotham Clock Tower!" screamed Riddler.

"I thought that was just where we were supposed to meet by noon," said Robin.

"He's been using it as his hideout," yelled Riddler, "And Penguin's got it rigged with all kinds of death traps. That's all we know. We swear!"

"Now what?" asked Batgirl.

"They're not going anywhere," said Batman, "We'll call the Commissioner to pick them up."

"What about the antidote?" asked Robin.

"Forgot to pack it in my belt," said Batman, "Oh, well, it'll wear off in six hours."

Noon. Every police car in Gotham was surrounding Gotham Clock Tower. Mayor Hamilton Hill stood beside Gordon, waiting. High above the city, above the clouds, the Batplane circled the city.

"Well?" asked Hill, "Where are they?"  
"Probably making sure we're holding up our end," said Gordon, "all we can do is wait."

The door to the clock tower opened. The Penguin walked out, leading a woman wearing a red dress and a mask that covered her entire face. SWAT officers readied their weapons. The Penguin grinned wickedly as he led the woman out. He stood in the doorway. There was about twenty feet between him and a wall of officers.

"I see you're smart enough to obey my orders," said Penguin, "You'll be doing a lot of that soon enough. I think my first order as king of Gotham will be to put a bounty on the head of the Batman."

"If my daughter is hurt," growled Hill, "The only ordering you'll be doing is ordering your last meal on death row."

Penguin glared at the mayor and raised his umbrella. At the press of a button, a razor sharp blade slid out from the umbrella. He held it to the woman's throat.

"Would you care to repeat that, Mayor?"  
Hill shook his head.

"Now then," said Penguin, "I believe you have something I want."  
"First, send Marsha over," ordered Gordon.

Penguin laughed. "Commissioner, it's not that I don't trust you…but I don't trust you. Toss the sack to me. I'm sending Ms. Hill over to you now."

The woman, her hands tied behind her back, began running towards the wall of officers. The only part of her face they could see was her eyes, wide with terror, from the eyeholes in her mask. In seconds, she reached Gordon. Hamilton Hill embraced her and pulled the mask from her face.

He beheld the face of a stranger. The woman was the same size as Marsha. She had the same long, red hair. But it wasn't his daughter. Her mouth had a strip of duct tape over it. Hill pulled the tape off, and the woman began crying. Penguin held up the sack and a remote control he had pulled out of his pants pocket.

"Did you think I wouldn't hedge my bets?" asked Penguin, "Ms. Hill is inside, strapped to a bomb. One false move, and she goes boom."

"You promised," growled Hill.

"I lied," said Penguin, "You get your daughter back when my rule of Gotham is nice and secure."

He was still laughing as a black shadow slid past him and went into the clock tower. Batman found himself looking at a long, winding staircase surrounded by gears and clockworks. Dozens of wires ran across the stairs. Batman could see blasting caps and dynamite tied to the staircase.

He grabbed his grappling gun and fired straight up. The grappling hook snagged a support beam. Batman fixed the line to his utility belt and pressed a button on the belt buckle. Instantly, the wench in the utility belt spun into motion, reeling in the cable. Batman was hauled upwards at 20 miles an hour, and was soon on the top floor of the clock tower.

A door shut on the lower floor. Penguin was whistling merrily, holding the sack in one hand and the remote control in the other. Batman grinned, aimed the grappling gun at Penguin, and fired. Penguin was still whistling when his feet was jerked out from under him. His whistles turned into screams as he found himself flying upside down towards the roof of the tower. The remote control fell from his hands, fell thirty feet, and smashed on the floor of the tower.

Penguin found himself upside down, face to face with Batman.

"Where is she?" growled Batman.

"Go kiss a mule," snapped Penguin.

"Wrong answer!"

Suddenly, Penguin was falling to the ground. He screamed, and jerked to a stop a mere two inches from the concrete floor. Then he shot upwards a second time.

"I'm only asking you nice once more!"

"That was nice?" asked Penguin.

"Strike two!"

Again, Penguin fell nose first towards the concrete. This time he stopped one inch from the ground. Before he could speak, he shot upwards a third time.

"Third time is either the charm," said Batman evenly, "Or it's three strikes and you're out!"

"Behind the clock face," said Penguin, "But you'll never get her in time. When the remote smashed, it armed the bomb. Once it's armed, there's no shutting it off."

Batman whirled around and, dragging Penguin behind him, ran to the door leading to the clock face.

"Don't open it!" screamed Penguin, "I wired a bomb behind the door. Open it, and we all go up in flames!"

"You're lying!"

"No," insisted Penguin, "The remote control had a code in it the disarmed the bombs. You royally goofed by making me drop it."

Batman considered this. It was possible that Penguin was lying his face off. But, if there was even the slightest chance he was telling the truth… He pulled a radio out of his utility belt.

"Robin," He said, "It's all up to you and Batgirl. She's behind the clock face with a bomb. Penguin says it can't be disarmed."

The Bat rapidly descended out of the sky, coming to a halt above the clock tower. It hovered in a stationary orbit above the clock face.

"All set?" asked Batgirl.

"Ready," said Robin.

The door slid open. Robin stood at the very edge of the doorway, looking down at the clock tower. He had grown up on the high wire in the circus, as part of the Flying Graysons. By the time he was 13, he had made a career of walking on a tight rope hundreds of feet in the air. But at the time, he wasn't having to rescue someone tied to a bomb.

"Go!" shouted Batgirl.

Robin dove head first out of the Bat. Fifteen, twenty feet. The face of the clock tower loomed before him. The bungee cord went taught. Robin found himself jerked upwards, swinging towards the face of the clock. Arms outstretched, Robin grabbed the huge hour hand of the clock and hung on.

Unstrapping the bungee cord from his waist, Robin looked up and saw the tower door. The tower door was the one way into the clock, which allowed for people to clean the clock face and do any necessary repairs. He grabbed his grapple gun and fired a line at the door. Attaching the line to his utility belt, he activated the wench. In seconds, he shot upwards and made his way inside the door.

Batman's information was right on. Marsha Hill was inside, strapped to a chair besides the gears and clockworks. Her mouth was gagged, and a bomb was wired to the door. The bomb looked like C4, enough to blow up the entire clock tower. Robin grabbed his radio and switched it on.

"I'm in, Batman," said Robin, "The bomb's wired to the door all right, and it's a big one."

"Can you deactivate it?"

Robin examined the bomb. It was sophisticated. Too sophisticated.

"I could cut the wires on the door," he said, "But there's no shutting it off. It's going to go off in exactly one minute."

Dead silence on the other end.

"Do what you have to," said Batman grimly, "Remember how we handled Two-Face's bomb at the chemical factory."

Forty-five seconds to go. Robin pulled a pair of wire cutters out of his utility belt. He clipped the wires and gently picked up the bomb. Marsha's eyes were wide with terror as Robin ran to the door and looked out over Gotham.

Robin pulled out his grappling gun and flipped a switch on the side. He positioned the bomb directly over the grappling gun. The plastic fit perfectly into the barrel. He pressed the trigger. The grappling gun fired, sending the bomb up and out. Twenty feet in the air. Thirty. The bomb exploded a safe fifty feet away from the tower.

Penguin was still vowing revenge as he was loaded into the back of the squad car. Revenge against Batman…revenge against Gordon…and revenge against the Riddler.

"What about the Riddler?" asked Gordon.

"Oh, he and his friends are still hanging around at their hideout," said Batgirl, "I think they've developed a healthy fear of bats."  
"And they'll have plenty of time to think about that behind bars," said Robin, "I always knew the Scarecrow's fear gas would come in handy some day."

"Off hand," said Gordon, "I'd say it's been a successful day."

Batman looked as Mayor Hamilton Hill hugged Marsha close.

"Yes," said Batman, "It's been a very successful day."

END


End file.
